


The Other Side of the Coin

by DaniGetYourGun (SharkbaitHooHaHa)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale is still Lawful aligned, Crowley is Raphael, Crowley is still Chaotic aligned, Demon Aziraphale (Good Omens), Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-02 10:45:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkbaitHooHaHa/pseuds/DaniGetYourGun
Summary: A collection of drabbles about Demon Aziraphale and Angel Crowley.It was a very thin line, Raphael had realized, the one between Falling and Not, and he marched directly on top of it with a provocative sway in his hip and all the practiced grace of a tightrope walker. At least, that was how he pictured it. From an outside perspective it looked more like a drunk trying to prove he was sober by walking on the lines of the road and failing miserably.





	1. Chapter 1

The demon was planning out what it was going to say in its head when it approached the angel atop the wall surrounding Eden. He’d lead with a greeting, of course, as was customary when beginning a conversation. Just because he was a demon didn’t mean he lacked manners, and he wanted to make that clear from the start. Then, perhaps, he’d get in a little light gloating over the successful temptation with the apple before steering the topic towards the weather, which was still a new concept at this point.

Yes, he decided as he sidled up next to the angel, that would do quite nicely, so he opened his mouth to say ‘hello’ and–

“Well, that went down like a lead balloon.”

The demon blinked. “I-I beg your pardon?”

The angel smiled, and it was positively radiant. The angel himself was positively radiant, with his fiery red hair and amber eyes, but it was his wings, pitch black like the night sky and shimmering with starlight that set him apart the most, and Azra couldn’t help but a twinge of jealousy. Even before falling, he had never looked so magnificent.

“I said,” the angel turned to look at him. “That went down like a- I- I’m sorry. Can you take a different form? I can’t take you seriously like that.”

Azra glared at the angel.

“Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to offend, I know goats are common symbols of evil and all, it’s just– well. You’re adorable.”

The billy goat huffed in annoyance, but shifted into his human form, anyway, he horns receding until he just had two little nubs protruding from his forehead and his eyes retaining their horizontal pupils. Didn’t want to make the angel too comfortable, after all. His hair was just as curly as it was in his goat form and his wings the same beautiful shade of white, a stark contrast to the black robes he wore, just as the angel’s black wings contrasted his white ones.

“Better?” he asked miserably.

The angel smiled at him, and it was the first smile he’d seen in a while that was actually kind. “Much.”

“Hmph.” Azra was searching his mind frantically for a way to regain control of the situation when he noticed something. “Didn’t you used to have a flaming sword?”

“Hmm?”

“You did!” Azra crowed triumphantly, pleased to have found something to lord over the angel. “You did, it flamed like anything!”

“Oh, that.” The angel shrugged. “I gave it away.”

“You…” Azra blinked. “What?”

“I gave it away,” the angel said simply. “She was already with child and the nights get quite cold, so I said, 'here you go, flaming sword, no, no, don’t thank me, well, okay if you must, but you should get going, don’t let the sun go down on you here.’”

Azra stared. “Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Perhaps. I’m sure Gabriel will have something to say. He has an opinion on _everything_. What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“Well, giving the humans the apple, giving them knowledge, that was rather nice, don'tvyou think?”

Azra balked. How had this conversation gotten so far away from him. “No! It wasn’t nice!” Oh, dear, now it just sounded like he was whining. “I’m a demon! Demons aren’t nice!”

“If you say so,” the angel said. “Still, be kind of funny, wouldn’t it? If I did the wrong thing and you did the right one?”

“I…” Thunder cracked overhead and Azra looked up at the steadily darkening sky. “No?”

The angel simply looked bemused as he lifted one large wing to shield the demon from the rain.

Azra inched closer to take advantage of the offered shelter. “Well, maybe,” he admitted. “A _little_.”


	2. Azra and the Antichrist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Azra and Raphael meet with their coworkers.

Demons are rarely on time. It is uncertain whether this is due to a lack of time management, or a complete disregard for the importance of others' time. Or, perhaps, driving people mad from waiting just feels delightfully demonic. Whatever the reason, however, this particular quirk was grating on the nerves of two demons who were expecting to meet one of their associates in a graveyard.

Hastur lit a cigarette. "He should have been here hours ago." 

Ligur, a woven basket clutched in his hand, grunted in agreement. "It's that contraption he rides around on. Slower than anything. What's he call it again?"

A single light cut through the darkness as a figure frantically peddled up on an old-fashioned bicycle complete with curved handlebars, a basket, and even a little bell.

"A velocipede," Hastur spat with distaste as Azra dismounted the bright yellow bike.

Finally, after he had proceeded to spend several minutes fumbling with the chain in an attempt to secure it to a headstone before finally just miracling the the thing on, he approached the other demons, who greeted him with a ‘hail satan.’

“Y-yes, yes, jolly good and all that. So sorry for the wait, I hope you two weren’t here long?” The goat-eyed demon asked, pulling off the dark grey wide-brimmed hat he used to hide his features from humans and clutching it to his chest, where he fiddled with it nervously. He wore a long beige overcoat over a dark grey sweater vest and a cream button up shirt. The ensemble was completed with a tartan bowtie that was the same shade of light blue as his eyes.

Hastur and Ligur exchanged a long-suffering look.

“Right,” Hastur said, “Let’s recount our evil deeds for the day, then, yeah?” And he a Ligur proceeded to do just that while Azra listened and nodded politely. After they had finished regaling Azra with their tales of dastardly doings, they looked at Azra expectantly.

“Oh! My turn, then?” Azra clutched his hat tighter. “Right, erm, well, let’s see… Oh! You two will  _ love _ this. Are you ready?" He held his hands up like a showman about to present his next act. "I rearranged the books in not one, not two, but  _ three _ different libraries."

Hastur and Ligur stared at him blankly.

"What…?" Hastur said.

"I… I rearranged them...  _ badly, _ " Azra explained, flourishing one of his hands in a 'ta-da' gesture.

The blank stares continued.

"I put the- I put the books in the  _ wrong places _ . I-I put the science books in the science  _ fiction  _ section... and so on."

"Right…" Ligur extended the wicker basket towards Azra. "Anyway…"

Azra looked at the basket but didn't take it. "What's that?" 

"Treats for Grandma," Ligur said with a sneer. "What do you think?"

Azra paled. "Already? Jesus Christ."

Hastur grinned wickedly. "Not quite."

* * *

Meanwhile, near London Soho, Raphael was sitting down in a small cafe as a waitress brought him a cup of coffee. He was dressed from head to toe in bright white, including bleached white jeans. The only part of his outfit that wasn't white was his bolo tie and the leather jacket currently draped over the back of his chair. His face was framed by a pair of horned rimmed glasses with golden frames but no lenses.

"How can you consume that?" Gabriel asked, sitting down opposite him "You're an Archangel."

"It's coffee," Raphael answered, taking a loud, long sip. At Gabriel's disgusted look he smirked over the edge of his mug. "It's bitter. Like me."

Gabriel look unamused. "Can you at least  _ pretend _ to behave like a proper Archangel?"

"You know," Raphael got the waitress's attention and gestured for her to bring another drink for Gabriel. "If you don't want to arouse suspicion from the humans, you should probably have some, too. Just looks weird, otherwise."

"How have you not Fallen, yet?"

It was a very thin line, Raphael had realized, the one between Falling and Not, and he marched directly on top of it with a provocative sway in his hip and all the practiced grace of a tightrope walker. At least, that was how he pictured it. From an outside perspective it looked more like a drunk trying to prove he was sober by walking on the lines of the road and failing miserably. Stumble as he might, however, he still hadn't Fallen, so he figured whatever he was doing couldn't be  _ that  _ bad.

He shrugged. "Someone's gotta keep the rest of you from getting too full of yourselves." 

Gabriel grimaced as the waitress set down a mug in front of him. He picked it up and sniffed it before setting it back down again.

"Now, now," Raphael teased. "That's not very convincing. Look, people are staring."

They weren't, but Gabriel made a show of chugging the coffee, anyway, which did earn him a few concerned glances. He slammed the mug back down on the table, looking very much like he was trying not to hurl, before looking around at the other patrons. "Satisfied?"

Raphael masked his snicker by taking another sip of his own drink.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes. "Laugh while you can. This disgusting swill won't be around for much longer."

_ That _ got Raphael's attention. "How do you mean?"

"I mean," Gabriel said pointedly. "Things are afoot."

"...Really? 'Things are afoot?' Come on, Gabriel, do you even hear yourself?"

Gabriel looked like he was barely containing the urge to hit him. "It seems the demon Azra is involved, so be on alert."

"Alert. Right." Raphael gave him a mock salute that Gabriel ignored as he stood and left the cafe.

* * *

Azra pedalled at full speed down the dark road, the wicker basket balanced precariously between the handlebars.

The facts were these:

  1. The basket contained none other than the Antichrist himself.
  2. Azra had been tasked with delivering it to the hospital where the Order of the Chattering Nuns were waiting to swap it out with the son of an ambassador.
  3. A velocipede (bicycle!) was not the most effective means of transportation, and he was, once again, running late. 

When he finally reached the hospital, Mr. Young was standing outside. The other man watched as he once again struggled to lock up his bike.

"Um, you left your… light on?" Mr. Young pointed out as he approached with the basket slung over one arm. 

"Oh! Heh! It'll turn itself off, don't worry!" It wouldn't. "How is everything getting on?" 

Mr. Young looked confused as he tried to catch a glimpse of Azra's face under the low brim of his hat. "Are you a doctor?"

Azra stopped. "Erm… yes?"

Mr. Young didn't look particularly convinced. "They're in room three."

Azra made his way inside with a cheerful 'tickety-boo' called over his shoulder.

Upon entering the building, he ran into Sister Mary Loquacious, and the two spent several minutes fawning over the Antichrist's little toesie-woesies. When they had gotten that out of their system, Sister Loquacious took the basket, and everything else went in the same disastrous way that it would have in some alternate universe where, say, Azra was an angel and Raphael was not.

You know, if such a universe existed.


	3. On Being a Bastard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to see if I could make them soft, still, with the new dynamic. Gotta say, I could get behind this pairing. :)

The first time Raphael had called him 'bastard' Azra was, understandably, a little bit insulted. Granted, he had been being a bit of one at the time, it was part of the job description, really, being a demon and all.

Still, it was a rude word, and he had made a proper show of being offended, even if he hadn't been, not really. It was hard to, after all, the way Raphael had laughed and smiled at him when he said it.

* * *

The next time, the word was preceded by another-- 'cheeky.' And try as he might, Azra couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face. So, he tilted his head down and pulled the brim of his hat lower to hide his face and answered, "Takes one to know one."

* * *

It took him an embarrassingly long time of hearing it to realize that 'bastard' wasn't actually what Raphael meant. The way Raphael used it ("come along, bastard," "careful, there, bastard, someone might accuse you of being nice," and even, on one memorable occasion "you beautiful bastard,") the word had come to be synonymous with 'friend.' 

Not that Azra would ever admit that was what they were. Him, friends with an Archangel? Never mind what Hell would do to them if they found out, Azra simply knew he could never forgive himself if he were to be responsible for making such a beautiful creature Fall. Perhaps, if he had been braver, he would have pushed Raphael away, told him they couldn't consort like this. But he had already been too far damned, and he was as drawn to the angel's light as a moth was to the flame. And he would so gladly let the fire consume him.

* * *

It shouldn't have surprised him, really, the day he heard one human call another 'love' and realized that same level of warmth and affection was always present in Raphael's voice when he said what Azra had now realized was a term of endearment.

He said as much to Raphael, and the way the angel had turned bright red and spluttered incoherently would forever stay burned in his fondest memories. It wasn't hard to render the redhead speechless, of course, Raphael had never had quite the way with words that Azra did, but this time in particular had him unable to look him in the eye without turning scarlet for months. And yet, the muttered 'bastard' that he got upon sharing his observation still had absolutely no bite to it.

* * *

It wasn't until after the world ended that Azra ever dared say it back. They raised their champagne and toasted to the world that still turned, and when Azra called Raphael 'enough of a bastard to be worth knowing,' Raphael had choked on his drink.

That was also the first time Raphael didn't say it back.

* * *

But when Raphael called him something else, while their bodies were pressed together and their mouths drank from each other hungrily, Azra swore he had died right then and there.

"Angel."

He wasn't.

"Angel."

Hadn't been in such a long time.

"Angel."

But in the eyes of the only one who mattered…

"My angel."

He was again.


	4. The Bentley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble serves no purpose except to make it clear that the Bentley has a bike rack. I just thought that was an important detail that everyone should know.

"I still don't understand," Raphael said, as he maneuvered his Bentley at breakneck speed through the busy streets of London. It was the 1933 model, of course. Just because he was an angel didn't mean he was completely lacking in taste, though you wouldn't know it from the bright yellow bicycle mounted to the tartan strapped bike rack. The car was a custom paint job, the brightest white you've ever seen, and even dirt knew better than to dare touch Raphael's beloved car. "How do you  _ lose _ the Antichrist?"

"He was a baby," Azra said defensively. "Babies are small!"

"Not  _ that _ small!"

"Oh, like you would have done any better in my shoes!"

"I da-blessed well would have, you can be sure of that!"

"Would not!"

"Would so!"

"Would no- for Hell's sake, slow down, you're going to get us both-"

"Inconveniently discorporated," Raphael finished, rolling his eyes. "You're a demon, aren't you lot supposed to know how to have fun?"

Azra sniffed petulantly. "You and I have wildly varying ideas of what qualifies as 'fun.'"

"Clearly."

"We just need to go to Tadfield and-  _ pedestrian _ !"

"I saw her."

"Don't angels get in trouble for killing humans?"

Raphael frowned thoughtfully. "Not if it's divine judgement."

"'Divine judgement?'"

"She knows what she did."

"Satan give me strength."

"Will that strength come before or after you tell him you lost--"

"Temporarily misplaced!"

"Fine. ' _ Temporarily misplaced _ ' his son?"

"We'll find him! We just have to go to the hospital and figure out what went wrong."

"Let's pray you're right," Raphael said as the car maneuvered out of the city.

Azra pouted. "Now you're just being cheeky."

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr](https://acuteangleaziraphale.tumblr.com)


End file.
